“Don’t screw this up by thinking too hard, Rachel,” she said softly, her voice like silk against the rain. “The question isn’t if we can do this. It’s can we live with ourselves if we don’t try.” She looked up, her eyes a steady brown, but there was a hint of hurt in them. “Don’t apologize every time you feel something and accidentally jerk me around. It makes me feel like you’ve done something wrong. You haven’t. You’re just being you. Let me take my share of the responsibility. Just give me time to collect myself. Okay? And maybe start wearing your perfume again.”

I blinked, shocked that she was actually talking to me instead of running away. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. Um, sorry.”

She snorted at that, and clearly wanting to drop it, she found the tinfoil and started wrapping up the leftover cake. It seemed different now, as we silently went about the business of cleaning up the kitchen, both of us not quite walking on eggshells, but peaceful almost, knowing nothing was ever going to happen between us and we could just concentrate on getting along. But when things loosened up into a casual comfort was when I usually had the most trouble with relationships. Sighing, I turned at the sound of pixy wings in the hall.

“Hey, I think Al’s here,” Jenks said as he hovered between us, and a spike of fear slid through me and was gone. Ivy took a slow breath, but she was smiling as her softly dilating pupils met mine.

“I can’t see him, but the air got about three degrees colder in that ley line,” Jenks added, then hesitated, his expression going wary when he noticed we were a careful eight feet apart. “Did I interrupt something?” he asked warily.

“No,” I blurted. What is Al doing here? I thought I had tonight off. “Is it still raining?”

Ever the observant pain-in-the-ass, Jenks flew a circle around Ivy. “Are you sure?” he persisted, laughing. “’Cause it looks like—”

“No,” I reiterated as I started for the back door, anticipation of the unknown running through me. Who would have thought I’d ever go into the ever-after willingly. “Ivy and I were discussing how I need to go talk to Ford. See if I can remember anything new.”

Ivy was right behind me with Mr. Fish. I opened the door to find the rain had settled into a fine mist. I glanced at the Betta, then her. “Uh, Ivy?”

“Take your fish,” she said, eyes low as she shoved it at me. “Use him like a canary. If he can handle the toxicity of the ever-after, then you can.”